Page 20

After he ends the call, he looks straight at me. “I can take you to your condo in an hour. Make a mental checklist of what you want from it.” He stands and starts loosening his sleeves around his elbow. “I’m going upstairs to shower. We’ll leave when I’m done.”

I gesture to myself. “Um, I need something to wear.”

“Come on.” He stops at the landing, waiting for me to stand.

I follow him upstairs to one of the doors with a code lock on it. He keys in the code, hiding it from me. We enter a bedroom that smells like his cologne and fresh laundry.

The walls are taupe, and I recognize his bed from the latest Restoration Hardware catalog. The room is clean, almost not lived in, and the brown bedding is perfectly made.

He guides me through a primary bathroom to an impressive closet—and this is coming from a woman with a closet larger than most New York apartments.

I huff when he shoves black sweats into my hands. He stares me down, not offering privacy like a gentleman would, as I slide the blazer off my shoulders. I use it to cover myself while awkwardly tugging the sweats up my legs. They hang loose on my waist.

“Tie the drawstring as tight as you can,” he instructs. “Grab a hoodie.”

I hold up the blazer. “What if I like this better?”

“I killed a man in that jacket a day ago. It’s all yours, if you want.”

I toss it on the floor as if it just caught fire, and he starts unbuttoning his shirt.

My jaw drops when he removes his shirt, revealing his tatted chest and six-pack. Snapping myself back into reality, I hurriedly turn around, yank a hoodie from the hanger, and flee the room, going into the hallway.

When I hear the shower start, I lean against the stair railing and call my father’s attorney.

Henry will know what to do.

He’s solved my family’s problems for years.

Julian at least left his number in there.

Henry answers on the second ring. “Hello, Genesis. I’ve been expecting your call.”

“Is it true?” I ask. “About my father?”

“Yes, and if you didn’t know, they found his dead body earlier this evening.”

I cover my mouth, hiding a gasp. Hearing him confirm it is a sucker punch to the gut. I’m also worried the cops or public may believe I’m involved in his death. If they watch the cameras, they’ll see me fleeing the scene with a group of men carrying guns.

Will people think I did it for money?

For my inheritance?

Though now, it’s nonexistent, apparently.

“Did he set up anything for me?” My voice shakes as the words leave my mouth.

“No.”

My heart skips a beat.

“There’s no money for you, but I can help set up an arrangement.”

“What kind of arrangement?”

“I’ll get you a home and give you money, and we can vacation together. You treat me well, and I’ll take care of you. I’ll also cover all your legal bills.”

Wait … is he …